For the Sake of Memory
by MnemosynesEyes
Summary: Draco’s hiding out after the Final Battle, and Harry, beaten and an inch from death, stumbles upon him. But, Harry’s victory claimed one of his most precious possessions: his memory. [DMHP]
1. Chapter 1: Life Debt

**Title:** For The Sake of Memory  
**Author:** Winter Darkblade  
**Summary:** Draco's hiding out after the Final Battle, and Harry, beaten and an inch from death, stumbles upon him. But, Harry's victory required one of his most precious possessions: his memory. Eventual DMHP  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or it's characters, nor do I claim to know what will happen in the 7th book. They belong to the lovely Miss J.K. Rowling.

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Chapter 1: Life Debt

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He ran for what seems like hours. The thuds of his footsteps was driving him mad as his brain screamed at him, calling him a weakling, a coward. How dare he run away! What would his father have said?

All regard for what his parents would think evaporated from his mind as he first laid eyes on the creature they called the 'Dark Lord'. The hideous beast with those blood red eyes chilled his normally cold skin to the bone and beyond. That's when he ran. Ran with everything he had, ignoring the shouts coming from the brat of a Weasly, calling him a coward.

Much like the voices within himself.

His long blond hair was decorated with bits of leaves and twigs, but he ignored them, focusing on the path on which he seemed to be taking. He didn't care where it led…as long as it took him away from that….thing.

The snapping of a twig behind him caused him to turn and look fearfully, which in turn led to him sprawled not moments later on the ground, gasping for air. He stayed that way for a long time, panting on the ground, to weak to stand on his own. What that Weasle would say if he saw him like this. But the Weasle wasn't around now. In fact, he was already dead, probably along with that Mudblood and stupid Potter, who had stayed to take on the Dark Lord. And involuntary shudder ran through him at the mere thought of the name.

Eventually, he lifted his head and scrambled to his feet, stumbling a few feet forward before he noticed a small shack in front of him. He stood there for a moment, dazed, before the sound of another snapping twig startled him into action. He moved forward, slowly, painfully – there was a sharp pain along his leg that he hadn't noticed before now. He made it to the door and threw it open, not really caring if there was anyone inside yet.

The flat was the most miserable thing he had ever seen. The floor was bare, save for a thin layer of dust, and there were only a few miserable pieces of furniture. A desk sat on one corner, an empty inkwell resting on one edge, and a small, rickety-looking chair sat at a small table, which held a small, dust-covered plate and a similarly shrouded, peweter goblet. No silverware was visible. A wretched bed was set up in the corner, a person-shaped indent in the center of it, along with a few stains along the matress.

The young boy scowled as he shut the door, and leaned gently against it, trying to steady his breathing. With shaking steps, he moved forward, flinching as moonlight spilled across his face through a hole in the roof. What a miserable life this place promised; for now, it was all he had. Desperatly, he made it to the tiny cupboard, fumbling through the emptiness in search of something to eat. All he found, however, was a collection of mouse droppings.

With a heavy sigh, he sank down onto the bed dejectedly, and silver eyes stared blankly around the room. In the morning, when he had regained his energy, he would set out again, and try and find something to eat. His stomach gave an angry growl, and he groaned softly. The search was futile in the dark, so instead, he collapsed back onto the bed. He coughed a bit at the dust that filled his lungs but it settled right back down again where it had been. He tried to ignore the scent of the bed and he let his eyes close gently. Best to try and get some sleep now, before things started to get worse.

* * *

He had just fallen asleep when he heard something _thump_ against the door. A dark chill ripped through his body, and he stifled a groan as any movement of his leg send pain from toe to head. He bit back a cry of pain as he swung his feet down and fumbled for his wand. 

"Who's there?" he croaked, his throat itching from being dry. There was no response. He lifted his want to be level with the door. "Who's there? Don't make me blast you." The threat sounded a bit empty, but the person outside didn't need to know that. The boy frowned, and advanced slowly towards the door. "I'm going to count to three…."

Another, heavier thump came from the door, knocking a bit of dust from the frame. The boy scruntched up his eyes to keep the dust from them as he slowly counted to three in his mind. He reached for the handle, and as he took another breath, threw the door wide.

Unfortunatly, it didn't quite work how he planned. His wand was pointed at empty air, and a heavy weight fell fast onto his feet. He gasped as pain shot through his leg at the shock, and he stared downwards.

There, at his feet, was his archnemesis.

Harry Potter, bleeding from numerous cuts, bruised all over his body, and looking as decrepid as the building into which he had stumbled. The blond scowled and glared at him.

"Potter," he spat, glaring at him. "Get off my foot." He jabbed him gently. The Boy Who Lived didn't move. In fact, he didn't even acknowledge that the blond had kicked him. Instead, he gave a tiny whimper. Silver eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're tesing my patience, Potter. Get off!" Using a bit of the little energy he had, he kicked harder, managing to dislonge the brunet from his foot. The young man scowled dangerously and covered a wince as pain raced through his foot again.

"Damn you, Potter," he hissed. The other boy lay very still on the ground. Silver eyes rolled. "Knock it off, this isn't bloody funny any more." Still, no movement. "I'm not carrying you, you know. You can just lay there for all I care." With that, the thin 17-year-old stalked over to the bed and laid back down with a huff and a small twinge of pain.

It was nearly ten minutes before the teen looked back up at the body in the doorway. He sighed and fell back against the matress again, his mind running over the pros and cons of leaving him there or moving him out of the doorway so he would stop letting cold air in.

Finally, the thought of having Harry Potter indebted to him for life caused him to move from the bed and stagger over to when the boy lay on the ground. He glowered impressively over the boy for a moment, savoring the glorious power he held over his nemesis' life, then knelt beside him. Sliding an arm around the brunet's back, and the other around his front, he hefted his rival's limp body onto his shoulder. For a Seeker, Harry was awfully heavy.

The blond half-carried, half-dragged the unconcious boy to the rickety bed and dumped him down, breathing heavily. He sighed darkly and lifted the boy's legs onto the bed and rearranging his limbs. What a pain. Figures, a spoiled brat like Potter would go and get himself nearly killed, then rely on the one person that wanted nothing more than for him to disappear to keep him alive. The former Slytherin Seeker glared down at the boy for a moment, then felt his forehead. Even his cold skin warmed at the heat that emminated from Potter's body. The blond flinched slightly, and withdrew his hand. His eyes lingered a moment on the scar that cut into his head, before he tore his eyes away to more important business.

He checked the boy over with his eyes, noting every cut and every bruise. They would have to be treated, but then again, the blond had no idea what to do with himself. He had never had to heal anything in his life: that's what Madame Pomfry was for, or the family Doctor. He stared blankly at the shredded body before him, before sliding his own tatterd cloak from his shoulders. Using his teeth he ripped the fine black cloth into strips, both large and small. He pulled the Slytherin patch off the breast of the cloak, running a thin finger over the snake for a moment, before tucking it into his pocket.

He knelt beside the bed a moment, and stared at Harry Potter's face, as if looking at him would make him wake up, and thus remove all responsibility from the boy. However, after 10 minutes of staring, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for this humiliating act.

Working as gently and quickly as he could, he lifted Potter from the bed and pulled off the outer cloak. He dropped it on the ground to be used as more bandages if he needed to, then set about removing the sweater. Figures that Potter would go storming into battle in his school uniform. The tie came next; that would be used, most likely, so he set it in the small pile of black bandages he had. Finally, he reached the shirt, and with trembling hands set to work on the buttons. He peeled the bloodstained white garment from the body of the Boy Who Lived, and winced at the minuscule but deep cuts that lined his torso. He shook his head and began to work, wrapping the largest bandages around his stomach and chest, then tied the smaller ones around the cuts on his arms. He gently wrapped the boy's hands, tying them so that when he woke, he wouldn't feel any discomfort, nor loss of circulation. Once that was done, he took another deep breath and moved downwards.

He started with the boy's shoes, pulling them off as gently and slowly as he could. Next came the socks, which were gold and scarlet: Gryffindor colors. Potter certainly had House Pride. With a soft snort, he set the socks down next to the cloak he had pulled off, and returned to his patient. Next were the pants. The blond really rather not touch these, but it was necessary. With gentle fingers, he undid the belt and pulled it out from underneath the unconcious boy. He set it down softly beside him, then sighed gently. His knowing fingers deftly undid the button at the edge of the boy's trousers, then he slid his hands down the brunet's hips, dragging the fabric with them. He folded them and set them aside; he'd put them back on when he was finished. As he glanced back up at his charge, he shook his head. _'Gryffindor underwear, Potter?' _he thought incredulously. _'The socks I understand, but underwear?'_ He sighed softly and left those on. No way would he ever touch his archnemesis _there_. It certainly was not something to do.

He gently lifted each leg and wrapped the makeshift bandages around them. There were a few deep gashes just under his knees, and they received extra bandages. When he was finished, he slid lifted the pants and slid each leg individually into them, as gentle as he could possibly be. He rocked back on his heels and plopped down onto the floor of the shack with a small wince of pain. Time to tend his own wounds, now that Potter was taken care of.

He rolled his pant leg up, and winced at the sight. Blood caked a gash as long as his forearm that ran down his leg, ending just above his ankle. He took a piece of his robe and spit into it, scowling as he rubbed at the blood, which fell off in chunks, pulling hair with it in the process. He bit his lip until it bled as he continued to wipe away the crusted blood. Then, he dragged the last remaining bandages – the Gryffindor tie being one of them – around his leg. He sighed wearily and scrambled slowly to his feet. He heard his knees pop, as well as a few bones in his back, and he let out a long breath in response.

His gaze fell on the sleeping young man in front of him, and he froze for a moment. He certainly couldn't sleep in a chair; and he had come first, so he should have the bed! But Potter couldn't be moved. It would only reopen the wounds and that would cause more problems. So, the blond decided on the chair. He moved stiffly towards the small armchair, and sunk into it, hearing the seat springs pop as he did so. The corners of his lips twitched into a dark smirk, then he leaned back into the chair.

"You owe me big, Potter," he growled out, before his silver eyes fluttered shut and he drifted into a light and tortured sleep.

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**A/N:** Trying to keep Draco as much in character as I possibly can. And yes, before any of you ask, I never used his name in this chapter. But don't worry, it'll show up in the next chapter, I promise. This one seems to drag a little bit (had to go into semi detail about the wrapping of the wounds), but the others will pick up eventually. And I totally ship DH, so it's really hard for my to control my silly fangirl fetishes. If you like it, please review and tell me so. This is my first HP fic, so it's eating me inside. R&R! Oh, and if you're wondering where Ron and Hermione are, it'll be explained in later chapters. Promise! 

Your Lovely Authoress,  
-Winter


	2. Chapter 2: Amnesia

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1

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**Chapter 2: **Amnesia

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Harry slept for three days, during which Draco wandered around the area outside the shack in search of food and water. The first day out, he managed to find a small brook and a patch of edible berries, and returned the day after to gather what he could to bring back. On the third day, Draco had gone out to scout the surrounding areas for other sources of food if he could, and managed to return with a bruised knee from a fall he had taken on the way back, and a handful of scratches from the thorn bush that had broken the fall. Draco scowled darkly at Harry, as if he was to blame for Draco's lack of balance.

"What a pain. Potter is even _more_ trouble when he's out cold." Draco rolled his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he popped a few of the berries into his mouth and sat down to do what he had done for the last three days: watch the Gryffindor boy sleep. He found it quite soothing to watch his archenemy on the brink of death. Something about seeing "The Boy Who Lived" teetering on the edge of an abyss made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Draco had just begun to fall asleep when a moan came from the boy on the bed. Silver eyes snapped open to regard the brunet, a mixture of anger and hope swelling in them as Draco watched Harry lift a bandaged hand to his head and gently massage his scalp. Harry murmured something the blond couldn't hear, before his shockingly green eyes opened drowsily. Harry blinked, bleary-eyed, then squinted against the harsh sunlight streaming in from the windows.

The former Slytherin's mouth twitched into a smirk as he watched Harry slowly try to regain his senses.

"About time you woke up, Potter," he sneered elegantly. "You've been out for three days." He folded his arms over his chest and watched Harry expectantly, the smirk still upon his features. Harry turned his head and looked at the blond, blinking a few times as if to clear his vision. A frown crossed his face, and Draco's smirk widened.

"What are you talking about?" he murmured, his voice cracking from neglect. Draco stood and retrieved a goblet of water from the table, then set the cup down beside the bed as he helped Harry sit up.

"You have been unconscious for three days," he repeated, using hand gestures to explain it. He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Potter, must I paint it in bright green for you to see it?" He handed Harry the water goblet and proceeded to fold his arms over his chest.

Harry drank the water and then glanced up at the expectant Slytherin. "Um…you're probably going to think I'm stupid for asking…but…uh…who are you?" he asked, turning his bright green eyes to the floor.

Draco blinked a moment and tilted his head, then promptly burst into a fit of laughter, ignoring the fact that Harry did not appear to find it at all funny. "Oh, that's rich, Potter," he said with a malevolent smirk. "'Let's make Malfoy think I don't know who he is and throw him for a loop!' Really funny! I _almost_ fell for it. Sorry, but I don't believe things that _Gryffindors_ tell me." He snorted softly and sat back in his chair.

By this time, Harry was watching him curiously. "I don't see what's so funny, sir, but I really don't know who you are…" He lifted a hand to his head. "I can't seem to remember much at the moment…My head feels really…fuzzy…" He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. Silver eyes rolled again.

"Whatever, Potter. Just drink the water so you don't sound like a dying hippogriff." He waved his hand nonchalantly, and leaned back in his chair, looking anywhere but at the brunet on the bed. Harry watched him for a moment, then lifted the goblet to his lips once more. The silver gaze flickered back to him for a moment, before Draco snatched his wand from his pocket and rose to his feet.

"I'm going to track down something besides berries to eat. Don't move around too much, or you'll reopen those wounds." He paused. "Which, by the way, took me _forever_ to wrap, so don't you dare start bleeding through those bandages." The blonde added a final glare to reinforce what he said and turned on his heels, leaving Harry alone in the shack.

Harry stared at the door for a few seconds after Draco disappeared. He shook his head, ran a bandaged hand through his already messy black hair, and slowly settled back onto the bed. "What a strange person…" he murmured quietly, before slipping into a light doze.

* * *

The blond Slytherin made it back to the flat before it got too dark. He levitated the broken bodies of a few rabbits he had managed to track down (though he would never admit that it took him several hours to catch one) into the room and wrinkled his nose in disgust. What would his father say, if he saw him eat dead creatures he had caught himself? Not without some sort of spice on them, at least! Malfoys never ate bland food.

Silver eyes settled on the bed, where Harry was still sleeping; his mouth was hanging open slightly, a quiet snore issuing from it. The Slytherin Prince scoffed quietly at the sight; so much for getting him to help cook these…things. Draco settled the rabbits down onto the hearthstone and leaned against the wall, watching the boy sleep. Should he move him? Re-bandage the wounds? Nah, let him suffer. Would serve him right for trying to play that trick on him.

As he turned to tend to his dinner, the boy slammed his injured knee right into the nearby chair, sending a wave of pain through him, starting at his knees and reaching every nerve ending in his body. He dropped to the floor, rolling onto his back and biting back a yelp of pain. It _hurt_. He breathed heavily and tried to ignore the pain as he had done so many times before, when a sound made him freeze.

The familiar creak of the bed sent a shiver down Draco's spine. He lifted his head to see his arch-nemesis fighting to stand up, watching him with worried green eyes.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, wincing as his wounds stretched painfully. He slowly shuffled his feet towards the boy on the floor.

"Don't move, you dolt!" Draco snapped at him. "I'm fine! But if you don't get back on the bed right this instant, I'm going to hex you into the middle of next week!" he growled out.

But no, the stupid, _stupid _Gryffindor Golden Boy had to keep moving. Harry fell to his knees beside the injured blond, who continued to glare at him.

"Let me help you," he said gently, his eyes on Draco's knee. Harry slowly withdrew the wand from the blond's pocket, as if every movement pained him, and pointed it at Draco's knee. "_Sano_," the brunet whispered, and Draco stared at him as the pain vanished. "You really ought to be more careful." The former Slytherin's eyes narrowed slightly as Harry smiled at him, rising from his crouched position beside Draco. For the first time, the brunet seemed to notice the wand in his hand, and blinked. "Um…what's this?" There was a smack as Draco's head fell back against the floor.

"You have got to be kidding me," Draco muttered darkly, before using his arms to push himself into a sitting position as the brunet sat in the chair. "What are you trying to pull, Potter? This isn't funny." He fixed the raven-haired boy with the darkest look he could muster. The Gryffindor just blinked.

"Pull? I'm not trying to pull anything." He glanced back down at the wand. "Are you going to tell me what it is, or get all defensive like earlier?" he asked, no hatred, no malice in his words. The blond rolled his eyes, muttered something about stupid Golden Boys and used the arm of the chair to push himself to his feet. He grabbed his wand from the brunet and shoved it into his pocket.

"It's a _wand_, Potter," he sneered, doing the best impression of McGonagall he could muster. Harry thought about this for a moment.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he asked, tilting his head to look up at the other boy. "Potter sounds like a strange first name…" Although Draco was taken aback for a moment, he barely let the shock register on his face. A quick flash of his eyes was all that indicated any change in emotion.

"It's your _last_ name; not your first, you ruddy dolt," he snapped, rolling his eyes. "Just like Malfoy is _my_ last name." Draco shook his head with an irritated sigh. "You're such a prat."

"How so? I just asked a question." Harry's voice held an underlying tone of hurt and indignation. "I don't remember my name." Draco rolled his eyes again.

"Bloody hell, Potter!" he muttered, glaring at the boy. "Your name is Harry James Potter, you're seventeen years old, you nearly died when you were born, you live with your aunt and uncle in the Muggle world, you've been attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the past seven years, and you're the Gryffindor House Seeker!" All of this came out in a rush of emotion, and the blond glared at him. Harry just sat there, drinking all of this in.

"And, ah…who are you?" Draco groaned aloud.

"Draco Malfoy, also seventeen, member of Slytherin House and your sworn enemy!" Harry seemed to take this all in with a quiet understanding, his green eyes focused on the floor in front of him like it was the single most interesting thing in the world.

"Oh." Not a single other word from out of his mouth. After the minutes stretched on in a painful silence, Draco made a small huffing sound and muttered something under his breath, his wand back in his hand and pointing at the rabbits. He felt Harry's eyes on him again, but he ignored it as the rabbits skinned themselves and hovered in midair. He muttered something else and the meat turned an off white color, indicating that they were cooked. He muttered, "_Wingardium Leviosa_," and floated the cooked meat towards the table and onto the plates.

"Whoa," he heard behind him as he stepped forward to take a plate and a set of silverware. Draco rolled his eyes and shot Harry a look. "That was brilliant," Harry offered with a small, almost embarrassed smile. Draco sighed softly and took his plate to lean against the hearthstone. Harry just watched him.

"Can I help you?" Draco asked darkly, swallowing the bit of meat he had pulled off with his fork. Harry shook his head. "The other one's for you, if you want it." With that, he focused his attention on the plate in front of him instead of on the other boy, who insisted on staring at him.

He heard Harry stand and retrieve the plate of food before returning to the chair. They continued to eat in silence, and Draco didn't look up until he was finished. Surprisingly enough, Harry had finished before him, and was now proceeding to watch him with an unblinking green stare. Draco glared at him in return and snatched Harry's plate from him, dropping the remains of the rabbit out the window and onto the ground outside. He pulled out his wand again, muttered "_Scourgify_," and set the newly cleaned plates and silverware back on the table. Harry was still watching him.

"Will you stop staring at me, please?" he snapped, glaring at him. Harry jumped, surprised, and nodded quickly.

"I think I'm just going to go to bed…is that alright?" he asked, avoiding Draco's eyes. The Slytherin rolled his eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

"Whatever. I don't care what you do." He added one final glare at the boy before sitting down in the seat Harry had vacated with a huff. Only after he heard Harry begin to snore lightly did he move to look at him.

'_So, Potter has amnesia?'_ he thought to himself, taking a moment to watch the boy sleep. '_This could work to my advantage…imagine having him as my personal servant!_' The former Slytherin nearly glowed with glee as he considered this option. '_Oh, revenge will be sweet._'

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**A/N:** So what do you all think of this chapter? I promise it'll pick up soon! These first chapters are killing me! . Anyways, please review! I'd love to hear what you think!

Many many many many many thanks to SolarCat, who beta-ed this fic for me and put up with my incessant fangirl need to rush through things and not make it very good, just for the sake of getting to the snogging parts :) Solar, you are the Harry to my Draco::falls over: XD


	3. Chapter 3: Nightmares

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Warning:** Just as a reminder, this chapter contains swears. Draco has a dirty mouth. :) That can be taken so many ways...:smacks self for thinking that way: I have to tone down these fangirl habits...

**..:HD:..**  
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Chapter 3: **Nightmares  
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..:HD:..**

The following morning, Draco awoke to an empty flat. Potter was nowhere to be seen, and Draco's wand was missing from his pocket. The blond scowled darkly, and muttered something that would make mothers cover their children's ears in shock. He stood slowly, trying his hardest to ignore the stiffness of his muscles as they protested the movement, and moved over towards the table. There sat the berries he had picked yesterday, and he popped a few into his mouth, his eyes resting on the desk as his mind whirled into action. His thoughts ranged from how he was going to track Potter down, how he was going to get back to civilization, and to the many creative ways he was going to kill Potter if he ever caught up with him.

About the time he had come up with his 57th Way To Kill Harry Potter and no way to get home, the door to the shack opened, and Harry entered, carrying two dead rabbits in one hand, and Draco's wand in the other. He jumped when he saw Draco standing in the middle of the one-room flat.

"Oh, ah…I went to get something to eat before you woke up, but ah…" His cheeks flushed crimson. Draco strode from where he was standing and placed himself dangerously close to Harry, so close, in fact, that their noses almost touched. Harry swallowed hard.

Never breaking eye contact, Draco took the dead rabbits and his wand, gave Harry the darkest look he could manage, then turned on his heels and moved back to the table. Feeling Harry's gaze on his back but choosing to ignore it, the blond set the rabbits on the plates and cast the same spells as he had the night before. He took his rabbit and sat in the chair, eating in silence. Harry watched him again, then he, too, took a rabbit and began to eat.

Neither spoke while they ate. When they were finished Draco wordlessly cleaned up, similarly to how he had done it the night before, then dragged the chair to one of the windows and sat down -- elbow resting lightly on the windowsill and chin propped up in his palm. His silver eyes focused blankly on something outside of the shack, and the silence between the two boys stretched on and on until Draco's back began to itch from Harry's intense stare. With an irate sigh, Draco pivoted his head so that he could stare back at the green-eyed boy.

"Can I help you?" he drawled. Harry shook his head quickly. "I don't appreciate being stared at like an animal in a tank." Was that a blush on Potter's face?

"Sorry," he heard Harry mutter as his silver gaze returned to the outside world. "Um…" Draco shifted his stare towards the boy once more, and silver orbs met an inquisitive stare.

"Yes?"

"Could you, ah…I mean…would you…tell me what you know…ah…about me?" There was the briefest twinge of hope in those green eyes. Draco arched a brow slightly, before his eyelids slid closed with a tired sigh.

"Why should I tell you anything?" he asked coldly. As he reopened his eyes, Draco saw Harry flinch away slightly, and the Gryffindor's gaze shifted nervously as he searched for an answer to the question.

"Well, I'd really like to know, and you're not doing anything else, so I just kinda…figured that you wouldn't mind…" He trailed off hopefully. Draco ran a hand through his hair quickly, rocking back in his chair before nodding slightly.

"Very well. But you cannot talk or ask questions until I'm finished, understand?" Harry nodded eagerly, and sat down on the floor at Draco's feet. The Slytherin let out a slow breath and began to tell the wide-eyed Gryffindor the tale of Harry Potter.

It was starting to get dark by the time Draco had finished his recount of Harry's life, conveniently leaving out the parts involving himself and the allegations against him concerning the Dark Lord. He had just finished answering Harry's final question when his stomach gave a deep growl, causing the blond to frown. Both boys had skipped the midday meal in order to finish the story. Draco scowled and reached for a handful of berries, popping a few in his mouth as he studied Harry's face.

Harry had gone quiet after Draco answered his final question. His green eyes studied the floor just above his knees, his gaze clouded and glazed.

"Potter?" asked Draco, arching a brow. Harry didn't move. "Potter." He nudged Harry's knee with his foot. The brunet jumped slightly and looked up at him.

"Oh, ah, sorry." He grinned sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I was thinking…"

"So I noticed." Draco slipped a few more berries past his lips, eyes flicking back out the window. There, he was doing it again; Potter was watching him again. "Stop." He felt the gaze fade, and he sighed lightly. "I'm afraid it's berries only for dinner. It's too dark to go out and find anything, and we don't know what's in these woods." He heard the ruffle of Harry's clothing as the boy stood and made his way towards the bed. Draco pivoted his head so that he could see the brunet sit down on the bed, eyes still a bit cloudy.

"I think I'm just going to go to bed. Goodnight, Draco." Harry rolled onto his side, his back facing the blond, who nodded in response.

"Yeah…sleep sounds good." He pulled the chair closer to the table, and sat down, setting his feet on the tabletop. Eyelids slid over silver eyes, and Draco slowly slipped into a restless sleep.

**..:HD:..**

Draco awoke suddenly, and blinked the sleep from his eyes before scanning the shack for any sign of danger. At first glance, everything seemed to be fine, but that was before his eyes landed on Harry.

The boy was thrashing on the bed, muttering something in his sleep as he tossed back and forth. His face was scrunched up in a look of terror and confusion, and his mutterings gradually got louder. Draco frowned.

"No… stop it… Cedric… so much blood…please, stop touching him! I'll do what ever you want…stop please…Voldemort…NO!" Harry let out a scream that made Draco's blood run cold. Frantically, the blond scrambled to his feet and went to the bedside, attempting to cover Harry's mouth with a hand. The brunet was twisting and turning way too much for Draco to actually do any good. The shack began to shake violently, and Draco swore under his breath; Harry's magic was getting away again. Ignoring the dull ache in his knee, Draco grabbed Harry's thrashing arms and pinned him down on the bed, climbing up beside him so that he could pin down the brunet's legs as well.

"Potter! Wake up!" he shouted against the boy's screams. "Potter! Harry! Don't fuck with me! Wake up, you prat!" Harry's eyes snapped open, and he ceased movements. Staring up fearfully, green orbs began to tear up, and Draco released the breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding. He released Harry's arms, and slid off of him, moving to sit on the side of the bed.

"Draco?" The blond tilted his head to look at the terrified young man on the bed. Harry had tears running down his face, and he was sitting up; Draco could see the brunet's thin form shaking against the moonlight that streamed in from the window.

"You were dreaming, Harry. It was just a dream." Draco bit back a laugh at the sympathetic tone his voice had taken on. When did he turn into a compassionate person? He kept his cool silver eyes on the boy in front of him, who looked as if he was going to break any moment.

"I…Draco…I saw them die…" Draco arched a brow.

"Who?" Harry couldn't answer the question. His face twisted into a mask of pain and terror, coupled with an immense grief. It chilled Draco to see such horror on the boy's face, and silently he vowed to do whatever he could to keep that expression from reappearing.

Before Draco even knew what was going on, Harry had wrapped his arms around his neck and was now crying in gasping sobs against his shoulder. He blinked quickly, stunned, and not quite sure how to react. He had never comforted anyone; he was always the one being comforted, and that was usually just to get attention.

After a few moments of sitting stock still on the side of the bed, Draco gently lifted his arms to wrap around the brunet's waist, his hands splayed awkwardly over Harry's back.

"Shh…" he whispered softly. "Shh…it's alright. It was just a dream, Harry…just a dream." Slowly he began to rub gentle circles on the boy's back. "It's alright…"

After several long moments of comforting, Harry finally released his hold on Draco, sniffing loudly and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Draco suddenly found that he was strangely cold without Harry pressed against him. He shivered slightly, then brought his attention back to the brunet in front of him.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his silver eyes tinged with the slightest hint of worry. Harry nodded slowly, staring down at his hands.

"Yeah…Draco?" The blond arched a brow slightly; he wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to hearing Harry use his first name. "Would you mind sleeping over here? Just in case I have another nightmare?" Harry still hadn't looked up.

Draco watched the brunet for a moment, regarding him with a steady gaze. When he didn't answer right away, Harry looked up, green eyes blanketed in concern and fear. Draco sighed slightly.

"Yeah, I guess I can do that." He suppressed a smile as he saw Harry's eyes light up.

"Really?" Draco nodded and stood, fetching his chair and dragging it to the bedside. Harry smiled gratefully before laying back down and rolling onto his side, so that his back was facing the blond. Draco slouched back in his chair, trying to get comfortable, and let his eyes close once more.

Not ten minutes later, just as Draco was on the verge of sleep, Harry spoke again.

"Draco?" The blond responded with a sleep-drugged grunt. "…Thanks." Draco opened one eye to look at the boy a moment - who still had his back to the blond - before it snapped shut again.

"Whatever," he muttered, focusing on sleep once more. The last thought that crossed his mind before he slipped into a dreamless sleep was perhaps he could try and be a little nicer to Potter from now on.

**..:HD:..**

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long for me to write up. I've had it sitting on my desktop begging to be posted, but I just haven't had the time to do it. So, I hope you enjoyed it! Please, please, _please_ submit a review. That button down there is just begging to be pressed. Not to mention I'll love you all for it.


	4. Chapter 4: Fugitives

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. So there. **:Draco-esque smirk:**

**Authoress Note: **Oh my GOD and update! Who'da thunk it? **:another smirk:** Anyways, yeah….this chapter KILLED me to write. Something's bothering me about it, but I can't quite place my finger on it…..so……**:bows to SolarCat:** THANK YOU, ALMIGHTY BETA-READER!

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**...:HD:...**

**Chapter 4:** Fugitives

**...:HD:... **

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Draco was having the most wonderful dream. He was warm and cozy, back at Malfoy Manor, lying between his silk green-and-silver sheets, and curled around something that felt like a squishy teddy bear. There was a sharp rap at his bedroom door, and he blinked as his mother stepped into the room. Narcissa began going on and on about how he had responsibilities and how he was supposed to be home by now; just as Draco was about to reply that he _was_ at home, the thing around which he had curled moved. 

Harry Potter poked his head out from under the sheets and nuzzled Draco's chest warmly, smiling like a lovesick puppy. Draco remembered his face paling drastically fast before he scrambled away from Potter and fell promptly onto the floor.

That's when he woke up. But he wasn't on the floor. _Au contraire_, Draco was wrapped firmly around a young, messy-haired Gryffindor, who looked like he was quite comfortable and still asleep. With a hiss of disgust, Draco none-too-gently removed himself from the rather compromising embrace with Potter, and stalked over to the window, glaring out as he tried to remember how he managed to get into the bed in the first place. Oh, not to mention that his face was burning a bright red from embarrassment; imagine, him, a _Malfoy_, sleeping in the same bed as _Potter_. He really hoped that Harry didn't wake up anytime soon.

A soft groan from the bed caused the blond to stiffen. "Draco?" called a soft voice, and the Slytherin rolled his eyes as he tilted his head to look at the bane of his existence.

Harry was awake now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. He blinked sleepily at Draco and yawned. Draco clicked his tongue against his teeth.

"We're leaving today. I'm going to see if I can get anything for us to eat before we go, and then we'll head out." Harry nodded drowsily, almost as if he hadn't heard and was just agreeing for the sake of agreeing. Draco rolled his eyes and left the shack.

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Draco was coming back from his rather unsuccessful hunting trip, cursing the damnable speed and agility of rabbits, when a voice reached his ears. He froze on the spot, and his blood ran cold as he recognized the voice as one he knew.

"They've got to be around here, somewhere, Lucius." It was his mother, Narcissa. "Draco couldn't have gotten far on his own, and Potter was far too wounded to make it to any form of civilization."

Draco stopped breathing. They were looking for him and Potter; did that mean that the Dark Lord wasn't dead, as he had hoped before? He shook his head slightly; perhaps this was a chance to reclaim his rightful place beside his father! They would surely take him back if he led them to Potter! But something in his mother's tone forced him to disregard those thoughts in an instant; they would probably kill him as soon as he appeared in front of them. Swearing softly, he came to the only possible conclusion.

He had to get Potter out of that shack.

He made his way as silently as he could through the woods, skirting around the sound of his mother's voice. He slipped quickly into the front door and locked it with a swift snap of his wrist. He turned back to Harry, who looked utterly bewildered.

"Draco? What's going on?" the brunet asked, tilting his head slightly. Draco shook his head and held a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. Harry narrowed his eyes a moment, then nodded, and Draco made his way over to him.

"There are Death Eaters in the woods, Potter," the blond whispered urgently. His silver eyes darted around the cabin quickly, and he moved into action. He popped a handful of berries into his mouth, before offering the last few bites to Harry, who took them graciously. Draco slid the drawer back into the desk, and scoured the house for any other sign that they had been there, grabbing the remaining cloth from their bandages and shoved them into his pocket. "We have to stay silent, Potter, understand?"

Harry looked as if he was to open his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. He nodded slowly, but sent Draco a look as if to say, 'this conversation isn't over'. Draco rolled his eyes and pulled open the window, and peeked his head out, scanning the area before slipping out into the woods. Harry tilted his head at the blond a moment, before Draco motioned for him to do the same, and the brunet exited through the window in a much less dignified fashion than his companion. The blond moved to the corner of the shack, pressing his body firmly against the wall, and listened for any sign of his father, mother, or any other Death Eater that could be with them. When he heard nothing, he motioned to Harry to follow and they started off into the woods.

Draco froze at the sound of another voice, thrusting an arm out to stop Harry, who watched him with puzzled emerald eyes.

"Someone's been here, Lucius," said a male voice Draco didn't recognize. "There are small carcasses of some sort, probably rabbits or something like that, and they look like they've been cooked." The blond swore silently; he knew he had forgotten something.

"Well, there isn't anyone here now, is there?" snarled Lucius, sending a chill down Draco's spine; Harry, concerned, touched the Slytherin's shoulder gently, and then retracted his hand as Draco flinched away. "Fan out, and search the area surrounding this place. I want every stone upturned, and no one is to return without finding one or both of them." Draco could hear people moving behind them and he pulled Harry forwards.

"Listen, Harry. If anyone finds us, I want you to run; no matter what I do, you need to run. Understand?" Silver eyes locked with green, and Harry stared at him in confusion.

"But Draco—"

"No buts, Potter. Promise me." Harry swallowed hard and nodded, only a minute movement of his head that cause black locks to fall into his eyes again. "Good. Now get walking." Draco pushed the boy forwards, and kept his silver eyes watchful for any sign of activity that might cause them harm. Death Eaters were cunning folk, and were very good at tracking spells; especially if Lucius had either Draco or Harry's blood to be used in even the most basic of tracking spells.

Luckily for them, they didn't run into anyone, nor were they spotted. A few times, Draco nearly hexed some wildlife, thinking they were Death Eaters, but the creatures always bolted before his spell could do any damage. Harry laughed at him, but he was silenced when Draco shot him a dark look, looking down at his feet and blushing slightly.

The temperature outside was dropping as they walked, as was the sun; it would be dark soon, they had no shelter, and there was no sign of human habitation at all. Draco wasn't thrilled with the idea of sleeping outside where any Death Eater could just sneak up and murder them in the night without anyone being the wiser. Not to mention that it was crazy to be concerned about Potter's well-being…he should be willing to turn the brunet in to the Dark Lord's followers at any time. Sadly, he found himself very conscious of Harry's movements, and very much anxious about the boy's safety.

Harry, however, was having a wonderful time walking through the woods, seeing how many different kinds of trees he could spot, how many squirrels he could see from this distance, silly things like that. He seemed oblivious to Draco's anxieties as he moved on, grinning like a loon and laughing as some chipmunks chased each other around the base of a tree. As the time passed, Draco himself couldn't help but smile at the boy's obvious carelessness.

Neither boy really noticed that it had been growing steadily darker since they had left the cabin. In fact, Draco only noticed because he hadn't spotted a particularly vicious root sticking up from the ground, which caused him to trip and land sprawled on the ground with his face landing in a rather scratchy bit of moss. He felt his face flame with embarrassment as Potter's laughter rippled through the air and caught his ear. Scrambling to his feet, he shot a glare towards the other boy, before dusting off his robes and thrusting his nose into the air. Harry merely laughed again, and shook his head.

"We should probably find shelter soon," quipped the brunet, hands resting on his hips as he surveyed the area around them. "Soon it'll be too dark to travel." Inquisitive green eyes met silver, and Harry smiled at him, sending an involuntary shiver down Draco's back; hey, if you had gotten used to seven years of sneering and glares from a person, suddenly receiving a smile from them would creep you out too.

"Yeah," responded the blond, rubbing the back of his neck. "Any suggestions on where we can find shelter?" he asked in a slightly mocking tone, sweeping his hand wide to gesture to the surrounding trees. "We've seen nothing but trees for the last _three hours_, Potter."

"Harry," he corrected sternly. Draco blinked. "I don't like it when you call me 'Potter'. It sounds like you hate me when you call me that." Harry looked away, but not before Draco caught the slightest tinge of red on the boy's cheeks.

"Fine, _Harry_," he conceded. "So where do you suggest we spend the night? Certainly not out in the open with Death Eaters on our tails."

The brunet glanced about, before starting off through the trees again. Draco watched him go for a moment, before jogging slightly to catch up.

"Do you have _any_ idea where you're going?" inquired the blond, arching a fine brow. A determined look flickered over Harry's face for a moment before he paused in his step; Draco had to stop very suddenly not to run into him. Harry frowned a moment, dark brows nearly meeting in the middle of his forehead, before a childlike smile crossed his face.

"Not a clue." Draco gave a tiny, frustrated groan as Harry started off again.

They continued on in silence for a while, with Harry pausing every few moments, looking around, and changing his course. Draco watched him with unimpressed eyes, but remained silent – after all, Potter _was_ his nemesis…right?

"Ah hah!" Draco looked away from the trees he had been counting and towards Potter, who was standing proudly in front of a rocky outcropping – one of those random piles of rocks that are in the middle of forests that seem to serve no other purpose other than to get in your way. The blond lifted a brow.

"'Ah hah' what?" he said, folding his arms over his chest. Potter beamed at him.

"Shelter," he replied, pointing to a hole, barely visible, around a protruding rock. Draco sent the 'you're kidding' look to his companion, who grinned sheepishly. "Well, if you have any better ideas, I'd love to hear them."

Draco rolled his eyes, before stepping forward and clearing away some loose brush from the entrance with a flick of his wand. He muttered, "_Lumos_," and peered inside; it looked big enough for the two of them to fit in. Though, it would be tight, and they'd probably have to be _touching_ each other while they slept in order to be comfortable. Draco wrinkled his nose at the idea, but it was all they had.

"Very well," he conceded, nodding to Harry, who smiled at Draco as if he had been given the best birthday present ever. The blond rolled his eyes and gestured for Harry to go in first, and the brunet didn't hesitate for a moment. Draco cast one glance out behind him, before he too slid into the makeshift shelter.

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**...:HD:...**

Yeah, that's about it, folks! I didn't know when to end this chapter……yeah…again, much much much much much love to Solar Cat** :hugs her:**

**Quick Poll!  
**_Who would you rather see meet up with Harry and Draco?  
_1. Blaise  
2. Neville  
3. Seamus & Dean (or just one of them)  
4. Snape

Let me know who you think they should meet up with! I'm curious to know as to whom my readers favour! **:smiles:**


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